By the time I’m finished with Nicholas, the wagon-load of slaves has arrived, been unloaded, and departed. Thank goodness for mental connections – I was able to confirm with Loran that a meal was waiting for the slaves, and with Alyna that accommodation and clothes had been prepared without needing to do more than briefly pause my discussion with Nicholas. Hopefully the combination has made them feel a little more human and less like objects to be sold to the highest bidder.

  It’s now time for me to find out more about them – and whether they should come with me to the Lost Continent at all.

  “Any problems?” I ask Loran as I meet him outside the room where the slaves have been led. From the scent that drifts out from under the door, they’ve definitely been given a taste of Sera Nolis’ excellent cooking.

  Loran grimaces slightly and I raise an eyebrow at him.

  A couple, he projects through our Bond. But nothing I couldn’t handle, he hurries to assure me. Though I wasn’t willing to leave Alyna alone in there with them. I hope that’s acceptable. He sounds a little nervous.

  Of course. What exactly happened? I press, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He shrugs.

  What is expected from a group of slaves in a new space. Some of them wanted to test the boundaries, to work out who stands where in the hierarchy. That I’m not a slave stopped them from pushing me too much, but I did have to step in a few times to prevent others asserting themselves.

  Anyone to watch out for in particular?

  A few, but for different reasons. Thalon, for one. He’s one of those who was sentenced for theft and assault, and who was being sold as a guard. He knows how to use his bulk to intimidate and doesn’t hesitate to do so.

  Thalon, I repeat thoughtfully. Alright, anyone else who’s a danger?

  Misli – he’s one of the slimmer men. He was a thief – like I was, is my best guess. He’s unlikely to hurt others unless backed into a corner, but I can see the glint in his eyes – he’ll run if he gets the chance, and will take as many valuables with him as he can lay his hands on.

  Noted. Is that everyone?

  Not entirely. Among the men, those two are the ones that stick out, though some of the others might be trouble in the wrong context. I’m not sure what to make of Maxen, for example – he’s just too calm. Among the women, there are other potential issues – I’ve already run into one woman who didn’t waste any time in hinting at wanting to sleep with me if I can get her better treatment. And one has a reputation of being a murderer – poison, the others think. I didn’t get her name, but I can point them out.

  Please do, I agree. Then I give him a smile and send a sense of appreciation down the Bond. Thanks Loran – this might have saved me a lot of irritation later.

  He gives me a small smile in response, the look in his eyes cautious but warm. Perhaps I’m being too hopeful, but maybe our relationship is starting to find an even keel again.

  If I can use my experience with various masters to help, I will, he promises.

  And I value it and you for that, I assure him. Alright – shall we get this started?

  As you wish, Loran agrees. He steps to the side and gives me clear access to the doorway. I take a moment to breathe, recalling exactly why I’m doing this and centring myself before entering the room with twenty-three people within.

  Then I put my hand firmly on the handle and open the door with no more hesitation.

  Immediately, twenty-three sets of eyes turn my way. Not everyone dares to look at my face directly – more than half direct their gazes at my chest or chin instead. But I suspect that I can identify Thalon based on the fact that he’s one of those who stares at my face boldly, a tilt to his chin that speaks of arrogant confidence in his own value.

  Thalon…if I’m remembering correctly, he’s only had one other master – which probably means he was at that particular auction block because of behavioural problems. His previous master might not have wanted to risk someone buying him off the list and then complaining about him.

  “Good afternoon everyone,” I start calmly as Loran enters behind me and closes the door. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I bought your service contracts – and why so many.” I don’t need to be a mind-reader to see that my comment has hit home with many of the people before me. “The answer is that I’m soon going to depart for the Lost Continent on a colonising expedition.” I hear several subtle intakes of breath, though few of the slaves even twitch. “As you can probably imagine, I will need many people to make my mission a success. And you have the opportunity to be part of the group.”

  I watch as that sinks in. This time, I do see a few twitches. I can guess what they’re thinking – ‘Opportunity? What opportunity? I’m a slave’. Or something similar.

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  “I’ll say now that I will only take those who are willing to come. The risk is high, but so are the rewards. Nonetheless, if you fear the risks more than desire the rewards, I will accept your decision and find you another master. But for those who come with us, I offer bed, board, and a salary for those who work to the benefit of the expedition.”

  At that, several of the people before me shift, more than a few sending glances at each other as if to ask whether their neighbours heard the same thing they did.

  “Yes, a salary,” I agree. “Enough to pay off your service contracts in a number of years if you choose to put it aside for that. And for those who go above and beyond, further rewards are available. You will also have the opportunity to learn some new skills, and if they make you more valuable to the expedition, that will come with a commensurate salary increase. Work hard for me, and by the end of the expedition, you may no longer have a collar around your throat.”

  I pause for a moment to let that settle in their minds.

  “However, as I said, the choice is yours. For the rest of this afternoon, I will spend time with each of you individually. During that time, you will give me your answer and we will discuss what comes next. Note, the offer is available to all of you, regardless of your original crimes, however for some of you I will need some guarantee in the form of a Bond that you will not attempt to repeat them.” Since there are a couple of murderers, multiple counts of assault, and an arsonist among the lot, I feel that that’s fair enough.

  “Loran,” I start, half-turning to look at him.

  “Yes, my lord?” he replies, stepping forwards.

  “You’re in charge of directing who I should speak to next – and ensuring that those I have already spoken to do not communicate with those I haven’t yet.”

  “Of course, my lord,” he agrees, then hesitates. “Perhaps we should use the room next door for those who have made their choice?”

  “Good idea,” I praise openly. “Please arrange it.” Get Alyna to help you, I add silently.

  “Yes, my lord,” he agrees, bowing formally. I send him a sense of exasperation and, wonder of wonders, he actually replies with a hint of cheekiness. It leaves me wondering what about today’s events has finally reassured him about my intentions – not that I’m complaining.

  I set up a little interview space in the corner of the room by lifting a table and two chairs over to it, and then raising a rock wall to block everyone else’s view. The slaves watch me in bafflement as I do the work myself, not ordering others to do it. But frankly, it would have taken me longer to recruit others to do the work for me.

  Once I’m prepared, I sit behind the desk and Loran directs the first person my way – Thalon. It seems that he wants to get that one out of the way. I use Seal to keep our conversation private.

  “Take a seat,” I direct him, nodding at the empty chair on the other side of the desk.

  “Yes, master,” he acknowledges, an edge of what might be arrogance or resentment audible in his voice.

  I just gaze at him coolly and silently until he drops his eyes. Though it goes somewhat against the grain, I recognise that a soft touch won’t help with this kind of person. It’s odd, but if I ignore the metal band around his throat and the knowledge that, legally, I own him, I could be back in my HR cubicle, having a meeting with an employee who’s been causing problems in his team. The thought is at once both comforting and disconcerting.

  “What’s your name?” I start, more to test the waters than anything else.

  “Thalon, master,” he answers with a hint of that same resentment – though less of the arrogance.

  “And what crime were you sentenced for?”

  “Ye can see that on my service contract, master.” His eyes flick up to stare into mine, but I see the cracks beneath his veneer as he doesn’t seem to be able to hold my gaze for long. Though, when they slide away, they go to the side rather than the table, as if Thalon can’t bear to even give the impression of submission.

  “I’m asking you,” I respond levelly. If he’s looking to get a rise out of me, I won’t give it to him. I’m abruptly even more grateful for the years of experience in dealing with different people that my job gave me.

  “Assault an’ theft,” he answers after a long moment, his tone begrudging. “An’ attempted murder.” Perhaps he realises that there was no point in lying when I can just verify the information easily enough. He cracks his knuckles and leers at me, though his eyes don’t quite meet mine. “Everyone knew not te cross Thalon Cross-fist.”

  “Until you got caught by the lawmen.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause a little rat ratted on where I was hidin’ out after the last job done gone wrong! I woulda gank the bastard, but they got te me before I could.”

  “I see. Do you have any questions about what I said earlier, or have you already made your decision?”

  Thalon hesitates for a moment, then leans over the desk towards me. I don’t move but bring my mana to my finger tips – if he attempts to attack, he’ll get a nasty surprise.

  “Between ye and me, I know what yer doin’ here,” he says instead in a conspiratorial tone.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Do tell.”

  He grins humourlessly at me – a frightening sight given how yellow and crooked his teeth are. I make a mental note to fix that if he decides to join us.

  “Yer lookin’ for suckers who’ll be willin’ te do anythin’ fer the promise that one day they might be free. Ye’ll promise an’ promise, an’ when it comes down te it, that collar’ll never come offen our throats. Mebbe we’ll not earn enough. Or work hard enough. Or mebbe a slave close te earnin’ back their price will have an ‘accident’. Ye think I don’t seen it happen before? Not slaves, but the shackle o’ debt te a crime lord is no less bindin’.”

  I become abruptly glad that Loran sent Thalon into me first – had he been left with the other slaves, I have no doubt that he would have spread his poisonous cynicism among them.

  In response to his words, I lean forward to rest my elbows on the desk, steepling my fingers. The movement brings me to within a few inches of Thalon’s face and I have to work hard not to wrinkle my nose at the rotten scent of his breath. He definitely needs some dental work done. But right now, the importance is showing that I’m unruffled by his accusation.

  “Shall I take it that you’re uninterested in joining us?” I ask calmly. Thalon leans back in his chair, unconsciously giving ground.

  “What’re ye gonna give me te make it worth my while?” he challenges, that arrogance back in his expression.

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